


Reconciling the Tulips

by geneeste



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-23
Updated: 2011-06-23
Packaged: 2017-10-20 16:29:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/214736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geneeste/pseuds/geneeste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She thinks about moving on. Short, drabble-ish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reconciling the Tulips

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: None  
> Episode: The First Commandment  
> Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story was created for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author(s).  
> Author Notes: The fic is only slightly longer than the notes. Around 300 words.

It has been seven days since Jonas' death, and Sam thinks about moving on.

She's counted the last seven days with memories of her time with Jonas - meeting him in the bar, their first date to the Smithsonian (he'd greeted her at the door with tulips), and his proposal. The proposal he had made in the middle of the night, in their bedroom, because he'd thought the moonlight on the pillows was romantic.

She's spent the last week trying to focus on the fact that he could have killed her, and her teammates. Trying to focus on his madness and its inevitable conclusion, instead of the shining dark on his face, and the way he had held her after she'd said yes.

So she's marked each day with a new self-inflicted tear, and the memories just keep coming. She finds herself grieving for the man who could have been her husband. She thinks that she must have been there for the change from the man who was her fiancé to the man who thought he was a god - surely she must have seen it? If she had been smoother, or smarter, or more loving maybe, maybe she could have saved him.

She doesn't share this with her teammates. This inadequacy is just one of the many things she's ashamed of feeling. Like the simultaneous guilt she feels at being so, so grateful at escaping not just death, but him. She's ashamed of being relieved that he's gone and no longer such a glaring reminder of her failure.

Rationally she knows that the decision was always ultimately his, and that he never could make the right one. She just can't seem to escape either version.

She thinks 'moving on' is what people do when they can't stand to remember anymore.

She remembers the tulips.


End file.
